Cinlach’s Grocery Store Rules…

Howdy all!

The wife and I made a quick trip to the ever reliable Publix today to pick up some spaghetti fixin’s and I found myself astounded by how many complete assholes there were wandering around the aisles and in the parking lot.

It made me wonder…don’t any of these fuckers know how to behave in public or is this incompetent behavior simply for my benefit?

So I took it upon myself to compile the following “Grocery Shopping Rules”. These rules will be in effect from this moment on and each and every one of you will be expected to adhere to these rules without question or face the dire consequences of noncompliance.

I never said this was a democracy…consider it more of a benevolent dictatorship.

#1. Just fucking park already…
Unless it’s pouring down rain and you’re in a wheelchair then there’s no reason to sit in the middle of the road waiting for someone to put their stuff in their car. In the amount of time it took for them to load up and move you could’ve found another space, been inside and already have started shopping. Never mind the fact that I wouldn’t have had to swerve through an automotive obstacle course so I could park.

#2. Just fucking park already!
I don’t give a damn if you’re just going in for “one thing”…pull into a goddamn parking space like everyone else in the world. Pulling up to the entrance to let someone out is one thing…pulling up to the entrance to let someone out and then sitting there should be grounds for execution on the spot. Since they’re obviously not fit for civilized society. Newsflash bunky…despite what your mommy might’ve told you, you are not special and you deserve absolutely no special treatment and neither does your wife. Park and let her walk or let her out and park…I don’t care which one you choose but if you stay where you are then something unfortunate is going to happen to you. Call it a hunch.

#3. This is a parking lot, not the fucking freeway.
There’s no reason for you to drive 55 MPH through the fucking Publix parking lot. Whatever the hell it is you’re after from K Mart will still be there in 5 minutes. I’m just trying to get pasta here, I don’t need to spend the next 4 months in traction because some cockless wonder wheeled over my carcass like a traffic bump.

#4. Nobody’s racing you dickhead.
It doesn’t matter of you get inside before me or not…honest. If I’m closer to the door then I should go in first. If I decide to stop and be gracious enough to let you go ahead of me then a polite “thank you” would be appreciated. You don’t have to mean it but it would be nice to hear it just the same.

#5. Would you fucking move please?
If you find that you haven’t got your shopping list handy once you get inside the store then please move over to one side or the other so the rest of us can go about our fucking business. Shame on you for not thinking ahead in the first place. You knew you were gonna need that damn list when you got to the store…that’s the whole stinking reason you made a list to begin with. Move outta the way because unlike you I know exactly what I want and you’re keeping me from getting it.

#6. Plan your goddamn route.
Look…unless you’re popping into this particular store for the first time then you know the layout. Take your list, look at it, determine where you are in the store and start your shopping accordingly. I’m tired of seeing you assholes wandering from one end of the store to the other buying milk, then taco shells, then cheese, then onions, etc. You’re grocery shopping, this isn’t a damn PE exercise from highschool.

#7. Stop blocking the aisles dumbass!
Consider the aisles at the grocery store just like the road. Do not stop in the middle of the aisle to grab sardines and then examine the back of the package to find the sodium content. If you need to comparison shop then that’s fine, just get out of the middle of the fucking aisle. I need spaghetti sauce…I can see it from where I am. But guess what, someone’s damn cart is right in the way. You see me, but you pretend you don’t. So I can’t get by and you won’t move. Now I have to walk all the way around because you can’t be bothered to practice a little common fucking courtesy.

#8. Stop weaving the carts back and forth.
Some of you push those carts like you’re coming off a 4 day binge. If at any point I have to wonder to myself whether or not you’re intoxicated then you’re pissing me off. If I’m faster then you then I find myself trying to pick the best spot to get around only to find myself thwarted at every opportunity by your inability to push a cart in a straight line.

#9. Parenting, you should try it sometime.
Please show some control when it comes to the actions of your children. I know that there’s no TV to keep them occupied and they’re probably starved for human interaction but my shopping experience is miserable enough as it is without having to endure your fucking ill-mannered children. Either you control your kids or they control you, there is no middle ground.

#10. Motorized carts are for the handicapped, not the fat-assed.
Let’s be honest here. Your physical atrophy in no way excuses you to use the motorized carts whenever you want. Those are for people who can’t move or walk the distance needed to do their shopping due to a disability. They’re not there because you’re too damn fat and lazy to walk around the store. Besides, you need the exercise chunky. So get off your fat ass and give the scooters back to the folks who actually need them.

#11. Don’t cut me off to get to the checkout line.
If you do I will cut open your stomach, pull out your intestines and strangle you with them in front of your fucking children. Then I will pose for pictures with your corpse and sign the polaroids for the other shoppers. Wait your goddamn turn fuckwad or I swear to christ that your mother will cry when she see’s what I’ve done to you.

#12. Please understand, I don’t control the speed of the checkout process.
Some clerks are faster then others. It’s just luck of the draw. So please, don’t stand behind me and complain about how slow the process is going to the folks around you. When you do that then it makes us all want to hurt you. If you’re in that big a rush then you should’ve left your house sooner. Don’t make your failure to schedule your day my problem.

#13. Yes I’m leaving. How about not running me over?
As I push the cart to my waiting car it’d be super of you to not kill me before I get there. I know you’re looking for a place to park, but if you’ll notice the large amount of groceries in the cart and refer to Grocery Shopping Rule #1 then you’ll just go find another spot and get your Ford Expedition off my ass. I keep expecting you to pull my shoe off my heel with your front tire.

#14. Please don’t wander out in front of my car, sometimes it thirsts for human blood.
While I’m trying to leave the disorganized mess that you’ve made of my shopping trip please don’t casually walk out in front of my car without looking or paying attention. That’s an excellent way to fucking get killed. Let me explain something to you. My car weighs 2,000 lbs…you weigh about 200 lbs. My car will devour you and giggle like a schoolgirl unless I force it not to. Do yourself a favor…look around before you cross the road. Oh, by the way, you might want to keep a handle on those aforementioned kids of yours as well because my car especially loves the taste of children.

So, now that we’ve got the rules all spelled out then there’s no reason for you not to immediately start obeying them.

I will be making a surprise stop to a local store tomorrow.

All violators will be beaten severely and any survivors will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

Garden State…

Thanks to the wonder that is Netflix, the wife and I just finished watching Garden State.

The more I digest it and let it roll around in my brain then the more I appreciate it. I was, at first, thoroughly unimpressed with the first 20 minutes of the movie. I almost bailed during that first little bit. I was thinking, “this is the point where you’re supposed to be getting me interested in the characters and making me give a fuck about their lives, not plopping me in the middle of these borderline strange scenarios and making me wonder what the fuck is going on.”

It was slow going but I was really just marking time until the delectible Ms. Portman, who plays Sam, made her way onscreen. I was not to be disappointed…yummy, yummy.

It’s amazing how natural she comes across and how graceful she seems. After watching her trudge through the quagmire of the last 3 Star Wars movies I found myself rediscovering the fact that she’s actually an actress and a damn good one at that. One can only imagine how stellar the Star Wars films could have been if George Lucas has actually allowed his cast to act and not spew nearly unintelligible sci-fi jargon for two and a half hours.

But back to Garden State…It’s not until writer/director Zach Braff and Natalie’s character get together that the movie begins to work. It’s like, Zach’s character Andrew’s whole life was one disjointed mess until the point where he meets Sam in the doctors office. I originally thought that the first part of the movie was due to the inexperience of Braff’s writing and directing but after seeing the entire film I realize that it was a calculated route. Maybe not the route I would’ve preferred but knowing the destination I can’t fault his choice of roads. Once the rest of the movie unfolded I appreciated why the opening was the way it was…if that makes any sense at all.

Sam isn’t whole without Andrew…and Andrew isn’t whole without Sam. All their lives up to that point didn’t just seem otherworldly and disaffecting, it actually was that way. What we saw onscreen was a true and accurate respresentation of how their lives were before they met.

It wasn’t a “chemistry” or anything as cliche as that. There wasn’t any overt sexual tension between the two, at least not in my opinion. But they seemed to totally bond from the first scene together. Which again is like real life. Sometimes you meet someone and you just click…there aren’t any “sparks” at first but eventually you grow closer together by a matter of degrees. Soon you find yourself not only with a friend but someone you love as well.

All in all it was an excellent little flick and like I said above I find myself enjoying it even more after a little reflection into my own life and experiences.

The wife commented on the dialogue and how real and grounded it was…once again I can’t dispute that. If you haven’t picked it up I’d strongly recommend it.

If you’re looking to gratuitous sex, violence or over the top acting then go rent something else. If you’re looking for a movie that’ll speak to your heart then head to Garden State.

Idaho Sen. Robert Geddes is a goddamn idiot.

I suddenly realize why our country is in complete disarray. It’s because we have fucking morons like Robert Geddes in positions of power and authority in our country.

Geddes, self styled “super-genius” has come up with a outstanding plan to combat the overpopulation of Idaho’s prison system…sleep shifts for the inmates. Brilliant…wait, no that’s fucking terrible.

Idaho senator suggests sleep shifts in prisons
By Rebecca Boone
The Associated Press

BOISE — Idaho could correct prison overcrowding by requiring inmates to sleep in shifts, sharing the same bed, says Senate President Pro Tem Robert Geddes, R-Soda Springs.

Geddes’ so-called “hot cot” proposal, announced during The Associated Press Legislative Preview, would keep prison work facilities open around the clock, offering prisoners who agree to sleep days and work nights more chances at scarce prison jobs. “I can’t find any place in the nation that’s doing this — or in the world, for that matter — but why not? The rest of the nation works in shifts,” Geddes said Thursday.

In October, Idaho was forced to send 302 inmates to a private Minnesota prison after U.S. District Judge James Fitzgerald said the state prison system was too crowded, calling the conditions “dehumanizing.” Fitzgerald’s order came in response to an inmate lawsuit. The Legislature is expected to consider some proposals to build more prisons or expand existing ones.

The inmates volunteered to be sent out of state. Geddes said he would use the same approach to find inmates willing to sleep days and work in prison jobs on the graveyard shift. By using volunteers, he said, the state would avoid any potential lawsuits from night-side prisoners. “Those jobs are in short supply, because we only use the facilities during the day,” Geddes said. “I would think that would be a great incentive.”

Geddes’ proposal was met with some surprise by other Idaho leaders.
Department of Correction Director Tom Beauclair said he welcomed “creative ideas,” but said there were several reasons why the hot-cot plan would be difficult to implement. “I don’t think that really works in a correctional setting,” Beauclair said. “I don’t have the [sewer] lagoon capacity, I don’t have the feeding capacity, I don’t have the staff to add more inmates.”

The federal court ruling also limits the number of inmates allowed in Idaho prisons, he said. “It’s just that we are so far behind the curve and there’s a federal problem as well,” Beauclair said.

Members of the Senate’s Judiciary and Rules Committee also expressed some skepticism. Sen. Kate Kelly, D-Boise, said the Legislature must fix what is causing overcrowded prisons — a lack of treatment facilities for mental health and drug abuse. “There’s the immediate problem with the beds situation,” she said, “but the real issue is why those inmates are there and how we can address that.”

Still, Geddes said, the court system has already expressed a willingness to work at night. “When do we have drug court? At night,” Geddes said. “Isn’t that amazing, that people are willing to come in at night, that judges are willing to come in at night, because that’s when the courtroom is available? Prisons can take the same approach.”

There are currently more than 6,800 inmates in Idaho, and that number is expected to grow by 30 inmates a month, Beauclair said. In February, another 150 inmates are expected to be sent out of state, followed by another 100 inmates every three months, he said.

What an unbelievably stupid concept. So you’re trying to convice the citizens of Idaho that this is a good idea?

Let’s examine this logically for a second. If the inmate population is up around the clock then that means there will have to be some sort of supervision around the clock as well. So you’re going to have to increase the number of guards you have (who’ll be working for a higher pay-rate by the way…no one works graveyard shifts without a increase in salary).

The number of jobs the inmates can do are minimal at best. Does this guy actually want the inmates out picking up the trash at 1am Wednesday morning? Let’s see how great the citizens of Idaho think that plan is after they get rocked out of bed by a garbage truck in the middle of the night.

Look…maybe the problem isn’t the fact that your prison system is overpopulated. Maybe, just maybe, the problem is due to the people you’re incarcerating.

Someone who writes bad checks does NOT need to be in a maximum security prison with someone who chopped up his wife and her lover. Duh!

There’s no reason for a man behind on his child support to have to share a cell with a serial child rapist.

Now, I’m not saying that people who write bad checks and non-paying fathers should be able to walk the streets free of responsibility. But what I am saying is that there’s a lot of people in those prisons who don’t need to be there.

How about all those fuckers on death row? I’ve got a radical idea…why don’t we shorten the stay at death row to 1 year? That way you won’t have folks sitting on death row for 20 years. The more people you sentence to the death penalty without actually enforcing it only swells the number of inmates on death row. Then you have to take up more space for death row which leaves less space for the regular inmates…doesn’t that make sense to anyone other then me?

And while we’re talking about sentences, lets address giving folks who write bad check a 30 year prison sentence. Give them a year or two, parole them, put them on probabtion and set a restitution amount. Garnish their fucking wages…I don’t care. But how the hell do you expect the people who’ve been defrauded to get their money back, even if it’s only a small amount, if you don’t make these fucking people repay some of the money they’ve illegally taken?

Sure restituiton and garnished wages would make life a little tougher for folks, but last time I checked that would be infinitely fucking preferable to being in a goddamn prison cell wondering when your cellmate was going to make an unwanted sexual advance…again.

This country has got entirely too many folks in prison…either by ridiculously long sentences or the lack of balls necessary to follow through with the death penalty. If you are sentenced to the death penalty then the result should be that you will die…not “might die” depending on the alignment of the planets, the weather in Pango Pango or how much certain citizens object to the death penalty.

If the people opposed to the death penalty are in the minority then they should just fucking deal with it. That’s what the minority is there for…to be overruled by the majority. It’s the fucking whole concept behind a “democracy”.

“Sleep Shifts” are not the answer in Idaho…intelligent and responsible lawmakers and a logical judical system are.

Good luck Idaho…my money’s riding against you.

I judge “I JUDGE”.

Sappy Chick and I went to Lieu’s Chinese Bistro tonight. She’s hopelessly addicted to the food there and I must admit to being quite taken with it as well. So I eagerly jumped at the chance to enjoy some of their fine food.

We pulled into the parking lot and the first thing I noticed was a brand-new, bright red, $60,000 Dodge Viper sitting in 2 handicapped spaces right in front of the doors.

The vanity plate on the back read “I JUDGE”.

Let me explain a little before I go off on my rant. My grandmother has been handicapped since she was a child. I remember vividly riding around downtown Greenville (or anywhere else for that matter) while she tried to find an open Handicapped parking space. There was always some self-important jerkoff who was perfectly fucking capable of walking an additional 75 feet sitting in the spaces.

If grandma couldn’t find a space we’d have to leave. It struck me even at that early age how completely fucking inconsiderate people were to the handicapped.

So flash forward to this evening…there I stand gazing at my number one pet peeve. If you’re not handicapped then stay the fuck out of those spots you insensitive motherfucker…I suddenly want bad things to happen to this guy.

When we get inside I let the hostess who seats us know about the cockmaster general and his outstanding choice of parking spaces. She obviously can’t do anything but I feel better just telling her about the situation.

By coincidence, she seats us where I’ve got a perfect view of the front door, which is where Mr. “I JUDGE” is going to have to leave when he gets done plying his 30 year old mistress with alcohol while he’s been waiting for his Viagra to kick in.

I fomulate a mental image of this dick…he’s a white, mid-life crisis sufferer. He’ll be sharply dressed and have an air of pretentiousness around him.

I don’t have to wait long.

A tall man wearing a leather jacket walks up to the door. His gray hair is slicked back stylishly. On his wrist glitters a huge gold watch and a gold braclet. He has at least 2 rings on each hand. The top 2 buttons of his purple silk shirt are unbuttoned. His glasses have gold frames with wide arms (think almost Elvis style). This has got to be Mr. “I JUDGE”.

My first instinct was to get up and approach him…then I realized that Sappy Chick would kill me if I made a scene, no matter how much I wanted it or how much he deserved to be told off.

I ran through the conversation in my mind :

“Excuse me…are you the guy in the Red Viper out front? Listen, I’ve got a couple of things to tell you.

First of all I’m sorry about your dick…because there’s no way your satisfied with the parcel you’ve been given to deliver.

Second, you’re old…get the fuck used to it. All the hair gel and Viagra in the world isn’t going to change the fact that you’re an old guy. Get used to it motherfucker.

Third, you’re a self-important cocksucker…why did you buy a car that was so delicate you can’t park it in any other way but to totally avoid contact with every other car in the lot? What the fuck were you thinking asshole?

Fourth, you’re not fucking handicapped…someone who might actually have a physical disability might need that parking space so they can get in and enjoy dinner just like you did. Physically you look more then capable of walking a few extra steps to get inside so unless your mentally handicapped I don’t see much reason for you to park there.

Fifth, and most importantly…you’re a pretentious asshole. “I JUDGE” indeed. Well if you can judge motherfucker, so can I.

Please do me a favor and get the fuck out of my face before I grab your medic alert necklace and choke you to fucking death.

You miserable excuse for a human being…go “JUDGE” how big an asshole you are for putting your insepid and inconsequential concerns ahead of people who actually might need the parking space your big red, $60,000 phallus on wheels is hogging.

Oh, by the way…drive safely asshole. I know you old folks sometimes get sleepy after you eat. I’d hate to see you scrape up your precious fucking dick-car.”

I sighed heavily…felt the anger and venom flow back to that cold dark place right behind my stomach. As awesome as it would’ve been to stand up and verbally assault that guy it didn’t compare with being mature enough to keep my tongue.

There was a time when I wouldn’t have had that sort of control. People who know me now have no idea how far I’ve come in terms of dealing with my temper.

I take solace in the fact that I’m not the same man I was 10 years ago.

I wonder if “I JUDGE” has 10 years left…I smile and eat my Lieu’s Spicy Chicken.

You’d better surround yourself with all the useless material trappings you can “I JUDGE”, because deep down we both know how inadequate and awkward you really feel. I only wish I could be there when you discover to your horror that none of that shit means a goddamn thing…that’ll be an interesting day.

My latest visitors are fuckin’ weird…

One of the neat things about WordPress is the “Search Engine Terms” tracker. It basically tells you what search engine, if any, people are using and more interestingly, what search terms they’re using to locate your site. When I discovered this little feature I was giddy with anticipation as to what the results would be…

So far the news is not encouraging.

Most of you know that while I may be a little crude and vulgar, I’m essential not a weirdo freak-boy. Unfortunately, the people that are surfing into my little piece of cyber heaven are weirdo’s and freaks. I mean freaks…not freaks, but freaks.

Here’s a list of the top 4 search terms that’ve brought traffic to my site in the scant few days it’s been in existance here at Word Press :

1. porn videos where the man stikes his head
2. https project bypass pictures of nude women
3. fucking child satan porno
4. pairs helton fucking

Holy fucking Neil Diamond…where should I begin??

How about “pairs helton fucking”? One can only assume that some supergenuis was actually trying to find something regarding “Paris Hilton Fucking” and that alone leaves me scratching my head. Paris Hilton is the nastiest fucking thing (pun most definitely intended) that I’ve ever seen in my entire life. She reminds me of some things we used to say in High School, “I wouldn’t fuck that with a stolen dick.”, or the ever popular, “I wouldn’t fuck her with your dick, blame it on Walter and tell them Kevin was pushing.”

Paris Hilton…ick. She’s about as sexy as the crack whore on nearly every street corner in America. I mean, what’s wrong with girls who actually look like girls? She’s about as sexy as a cardboard box and has a personality that isn’t anywhere near as interesting. She’s a shallow, materialistic, spolied princess who only vaguely resembles a human being. I think Paris Hilton is a prime example of the “just because they have a vagina doesn’t mean you should fuck them” principle.

Can these guys, or girls I’m not biased, not find better porno then Paris Hilton? I mean the internet is supposed to be the world wide web…you expect me to honestly believe that Paris Hilton is the best you could find?

Damn, I think someone was just in a hurry and didn’t want to look around a little more.

Look, I’ve seen the tape…it’s not one of my “top 10 greatest”. Hell, I’d put it below R. Kelly pissing on teenage girls. At least the concept of people actually willing to let R. Kelly pee on them is humorous to me. Seeing the decidedly unsexy and generally distasteful Paris Hilton get filled out like a Insurance Form for a rental car is just wrong.

I mean…shit…Paris Hilton? Damn dude…couldn’t you jack off to something at least a little attractive?

And while we’re on the subject, celebrity sex tapes in general are much ado over nothing as far as I’m concerned…there hasn’t been one so far I’ve actually wanted to see.

I can’t stomach Pam Anderson so there goes almost 75% of the homemade celebrity sex tapes right there. You take Pam out of the equation and the pickin’s get slim.

I sure as hell don’t want to see Rob Lowe, Bret Michaels, Tommy Lee, Michael Madsen, Fred Durst and R. Kelly doing their thing. Even the ladies aren’t offering much to entice me into viewing…Pam Anderson, Gena Nolin (who the fuck is that?), Chyna (the female wrestler…eewwww), Cameron Diaz and Tonya Harding don’t do a goddamn thing for me.

Now if, Sarah Jessica Parker, Elle McPherson, Jenny McCarthy, Rose McGowan, Gwen Stefani, Nicole Kidman, Alyssa Milano and Carla Gugino all decide to have a lesbian orgy of near legendary proportions then deal me in…otherwise I’m gonna have to pass.

The key to making a decent celebrity sex tape is to have it include people you actually WANT to see fuck. Just because two neanderthals are on a VHS tape swapping bodily fluids doesn’t mean I give a shit.

Just because you pop up on Inside Edition or Entertainment Tonight every once and awhile doesn’t mean I want to watch you get your freak on…Mary Hart anyone?

Yeah…that mental picture would take the starch out a pair of fucking Army fatigues.

Now I’m not knocking folks that think watching Pam Anderson practice her sword swallowing techniques is fascinating and arousing as hell. I just don’t understand them, that’s all.

Hey, if you’re a marginally famous person and you want to set up a video camera and capture your “O face” for posterity then more power to ya…just don’t act surprised when that shit shows up somewhere that you and the other party/parties involved didn’t expect it to. More then likely if these celebrities would treat people better then they wouldn’t have to worry about these special, private and perverse episodes turning up online.

Of course, they’re probably making them with the idea that if their careers go south they can instantly gain a little notority and squeeze a little more time out of spotlight.

But really…is that what anyone wants to be defined as? The short blonde headed slut who fucked a dude while he filmed her?

God…I hope there’s so much more then that out there for my daughter.

Happy New Year! (or…my 6 hours of insanity at the St. Francis Hospital)

Hi everybody!

Did you all have a good New Years Day? Boy, I sure did!

Everything started out dandy enough. The wife and I slept until about 11am, we went to our 2nd favorite restaurant, the near legendary Monterey’s on Woodruff Road, and we settled in for a quiet and uneventful day.

Alas, that was not to be…

Mom had just finished her traditonal dinner of collard greens, black eyed peas, yams, cornbread and mashed potatoes (I of course passed due to my intense dislike of the vast majority of those particular dishes, but we’ll talk more about that later).

Around 6pm my grandmother calls and tell us that my Grandfather needs to go to the Emergency Room because he’s having chest pains and shortness of breath…I tell her to say no more because we’re on the way. I inform my Mother, set Sappy Chick up as the family communications office, and Mom and I scramble out the door and head towards Easley.

About 6:45 we arrive at the hospital and we get Papa checked in with the front desk. After learning of his 2 quadruple bypass operations, history of bloodclots, diabetes and assorted other ailments we’re directed back the the Triage area and then in short order to a room in the Emergency Ward.

I head back out to the waiting room to fetch my Grandma, who needs to be there and not me, and my mother, who is going out of her mind with worry and doesn’t react well to a lack of information where hospitals and loved ones are involved. I head back out to the waiting room and settle in for what I’m sure will be a long and interesting night.

I was not disappointed.

Now let me preface my description of the Emergency Room experience by stating that I do understand that people are basically fucked up and that at any time of any day you’re liable to see something completely unexpected, bizarre and unsettling…now add the backdrop of an Emergency Room into the equation. I was well aware that I could possibly see anything and everything during the course of the evening.

Well…where to begin.

How about the numerous flu sufferers? Some people politely and courteously wearing masks in order to lessen the chance of infecting others, some hacking, coughing, and yes, vomiting all over the outside of the Emergency Room entrance, the entryway inside the Waiting Room and finally the bathroom itself.

What about the 10 to 15 children who were there as well? Some of them were sick…most were not. They had come with their parents, friends, cousins or distant relations from all parts of the globe to come and hang out in an illness infested place like the fucking Emergency Room. The children ran around unsupervised, played with the automatic doors (right where homeboy had eariler spewed his breakfast, lunch, and dinner by the way), played in the floor and basically made everyone’s lives even more trying then they already were. The absolute worst thing I saw was a child buy a candy bar out of the vending machine, then accidentally drop it on the floor only to have their parent/guardian/random stranger pick it up, brush it off and hand it to them so they could eat it.

Did I mention there was a dude puking all over the outside of the hospital…people walked in it…people who then walked into the waiting room…their feet on the very floor the candy bar had fallen…a Milky Way indeed. Goddamn people are stupid.

What about the woman with the child who’s pants were totally undone…I mean her shit was unzipped, unbuttoned and her panties, ass and God only knows what were on full display for anyone in the waiting room who wanted, or had the misfortune, to see. Put me under the second catagory…homegirl should keep her shit covered. Damn.

There was a young couple as well. The guy was thin, well dressed and obviously military. The girl was extremely cute, wearing glasses and a Marines sweatshirt. His shirtsleeve was rolled up and there was a knot about 2 inches high on his forearm…it was obviously broken. He didn’t complain, there were no theatrics. I actually kind of admired him until I found out how he broke his arm. It seems he and his girlfriend/wife were fighting. He threw a punch at her, she ducked and hit something that broke his arm. I heard her say to him with tears in her eyes “I wish you’d have hit me instead.” Sweet fucking Jesus…I have NO respect or tolerence for any man who hits women. So on top of being queasy from the vomiting episode earlier I now found myself so enraged with that little military punk that my stomach rolled violently.

It was about that time that someone decided to voice their displeasure with the process by which patients were admitted to the Emergency Room. Apparantly, doctors have this annoying habit of taking people who could be dying over people who’ve got the flu.

“That old man just walked in off the street…he wasn’t here 5 minutes before they took him back. I’ve been here almost 2 hours. Why the fuck was he so important and the rest of us have to sit out here and suffer?”

Yeah…so now it’s on. Time for me to start making friends here in the confines of our shared waiting room habitat…

“Excuse me ma’am…the doctors decide who goes in and when they go in. So if the doctors decide that when a man who’s had 2 open heart surgeries, a history of bloodclots and had been a smoker for 50 years comes in with chest pain, they need to get him back quickly because it could be the difference between life and death. If you don’t like their screening process then go take it up with them…they’re the ones who can make alterations to it. Don’t sit out here and bitch where I can hear it about how bad you feel and how unhappy you are that they took him back first and left you out here to “suffer”, because frankly I don’t give a fuck and neither does anyone else. Wait your goddamn turn and keep your mouth shut about things you don’t understand.”

Ahhh…that felt better. Strangely enough she didn’t have too much more to say on the subject for the rest of our time together. She was called back about 10 minutes later…I’m sure she thinks it was because of her little tirade…but as long as she’s out of my life I don’t care.

Mom finally emerges from the Emergency Ward with little news to share…they took an xray and there appears to be a discolored spot on his lung…my heart drops. They’re taking him back for a CAT scan and we’ll know more soon.

We step outside and I call Sappy Chick to let her know the score. Mom lights up a cigarette and I go off…

“If that spot is what I think it is then there will be absolutely no more of that shit right there. I’ll not lose anymore family to that shit…you can smoke if you want but you’ll not do it at my house.”

God, I am such a joy to live with…

Mom heads back to be with the Grandparents and I settle in for another few hours in the waiting room.

Now we’ve got a guy who’s wandered in off the street with a plastic bag ranting and raving at the waiting room staff. There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with him…physically anyway. I suspect that his melon is bruised. The officer on-duty escorts him out.

Mom reappears, Papa is back from the CAT scan and we should know the results within 20 minutes…it’s 10pm.

She and I decide to make our way down to the vending machines since I haven’t eaten in about 9 hours (remember that big meal I passed on earlier…yeah, that was really fucking smart). After we navigate our way through the hospital to the snack machines I discover that the machines will only take 1’s or 5’s. I’ve got three 1’s and a 10 in my pocket…fuck. Mom buys a drink and passes on food while I try and decide what I can get for the money we have remaining.

A staff member arrives and graciously offers to give us some money if we need it but Mom decides to check with Grandma to see if she has some cash. We head off back thorough the hospital, find Grandma, get the 10 changed to two 5’s and then I shuffle back down to the vending machines.

When I get there I notice the name of the hospital cafeteria…

Amused at the poor taste of the name, I snap a picture with my camera phone.

While I’m scarfing down my two $1.25 hotdogs (which were actually quite tasty) a woman arrives at the vending machines and she’s got the same problem I had about 10 minutes before. I’ve got a pocket full of change, a full belly and a sparkle of generosity in my eye.

I offer her some change if she needs it…her reaction is unexpected.

You would think I was naked, wearing a space helmet and a french tickler…she looks at me as if I’ve got raping and murder on my mind. I’m far too tired for raping and simply don’t have the cleanup items needed for murder…so basically she’s safe.

“Uh…no. Ummm…I’m here with some family and…uh, I’m sure they’ve got money if I need it…they might be down in a few minutes themselves…so, uh…thanks but I’m fine.”

Who the fuck am I…Ted fucking Bundy?

Fine, be that way…like I couldn’t use this change myself. Remember kiddies…no good deed goes unpunished.

I head back up to the Emergency Ward and park myself in Papa’s room…fuck the waiting room. I’ve had enough of that shit.

We wait…for 2 hours. The doctor comes in, explains the situation to us (it’s an inflamed spot on his lung and the lymph nodes are engorged which is a sign that they’re trying to fight off the infection…that’s where all the pain and shortness of breath are coming from). He gives Papa a couple of prescriptions, some advice and we begin the checkout process.

Mom and I get them back to their house around 1am and we’re home ourselves about 1:15 or so.

And that dear friends is the story of my New Years Day 2006…who needs a fucking holiday from the holiday?

The UGO.com Hero Machine!

OK, this is pretty fucking cool.

That is all thanks to a website called the UGO.com Hero Machine.

So can select the genre you want (fantasy, superhero or sports), then you get to pick the archetype and gender of your character. Once you’ve done that you can start customizing literally every facet of the character.

You want to have a guy in his underwear with a pair of sai’s? No problem…the Hero Machine can hook you the fuck up.

I made the obligatory mainstream superheroes (Captain America, Iron Man, etc.) before I decided to make my own character.

I started at the insignia on his chest and went from there…I started researching birds of prey on my good friend www.wikipedia.com and discovered the kestrel.

The kestrel is small, orange and gray bird of prey who is known for their ability to hover and use their extremely sensitive sight to pick up the ultraviolet reflections of the sun from their prey’s urine.

So I’m thinking…hmmmm, an assassin who strikes primarily from afar using an advanced targeting optics system to track and eliminate his quarry.

I thought it was a bit of inspired genius myself…but I’m biased I know.

I also thought this was an excellent way to respond to the ever-growing number of “Carla Doll’s” popping up on the wife’s site, Sappy Chick’s Ramblings.